Silver Phoenix
Page 25
Was he so thickheaded that he refused to see? Surely he knew, could guess, her feelings for him? If she loosened her hold on her own spirit just a fraction, she could hear his thoughts, feel his emotions. But it would be wrong—an intrusion. She had already betrayed his trust. And Ai Ling knew the inevitable truth; his heart belonged elsewhere.
They watched in silence as the flames slowly burned the spirit money into cinders. She said a small prayer for Li Rong, who would never have blamed them, even if they were unable to forgive themselves. And a prayer for the innocent servant girl at the restaurant, whose spirit had been overtaken by the night-worm fiends. Ai Ling watched as the last red ember flickered to darkness and saved her final prayer for Zhong Ye, the man who had held her father prisoner, coerced her to wed, and refused to die; the man who, she had discovered, loved her in his own twisted fashion, even as she was ending his life.
They ate a quiet meal on the knoll, sitting side by side, their backs pressed against the ancient carving. The meadow was a lush green, dotted along the edges with fallen leaves of crimson and gold. The scent of wet earth permeated the air.
Their food was cold, but fresh, the lotus paste buns sweet, the scallion flatbread thick and savory. The tea was lukewarm within the flasks.
“Eating like this reminds me of our journey,” Chen Yong said.
“I come here often with a snack. I think about it a lot.”
“And by snack, do you mean two sweet buns, a thick slab of bread, and lots of dried pork?” He laughed before she could retort. But the sound of it lifted her own spirit, and she chuckled despite herself.
“I usually just have a fruit myself,” he said.
Ai Ling tossed a persimmon into his lap. “I’m sorry if you don’t know how to eat properly.”
He threw his head back and laughed again. She tried to capture the moment like a sketch within her mind, the feeling of his shoulder pressed against hers, the warmth of the autumn sun on their faces.
Later, Ai Ling accompanied Chen Yong to the front gate. Her parents had said their farewells in the main hall, inviting him to visit again.
“What will you do now?” Chen Yong looked down at her as the birds trilled above them.
“Wed and have six children,” she said with a wry smile.
Chen Yong laughed. “I don’t think so. You were not meant to remain cloistered within the inner quarters.”
“No, probably not. Perhaps I’ll travel.”
His eyes widened, then he grinned. “I don’t doubt your capability to travel the world—and beyond.”
He extended his hand and she took it, did not pull back as he drew her to him in an embrace. She wound her arms tight around his back and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. He smelled of soap; the faint scent of sandalwood lingered in his clothing. She stepped back before he did. Ai Ling realized then she would be willing to leave her home, her family, everything, to be by his side—and the revelation stunned her.
“I’ll expect my gift,” she managed.
Chen Yong smiled and stepped through the door. He half turned to wave once, his golden eyes shadowed in the dying light—those eyes which were so strange to her at first, now as familiar as her own. Ai Ling struggled to keep her spirit anchored.
Look back again, she thought, and I will follow you.
Instead Ai Ling watched him walk away, with easy grace, until he turned the corner. She shut the heavy wooden door behind her and leaned against it, her chest tight with all the words she had not said, the tears hot upon her cheeks.
It was not until Taro came to wrap himself around her calf, purring a husky song, that she allowed herself to be led back to the house, lit brightly now against the twilight.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
So many people along the way have helped to make the book you hold in your hands a dream realized. I’d like to thank my agent, Bill Contardi, who took a chance on a debut author with no previous credits. I couldn’t ask for a better advocate, with such sharp business acumen and wit. And to my editor, Virginia Duncan, who worked with me tirelessly to improve the story and prose. I’ve learned so much from our revisions together. Your insight amazes me. Thank you to Chris Borgman, who created a stunning cover, and Paul Zakris, for the incredible jacket and book design. And to all the wonderful people at Greenwillow Books—thank you, thank you, thank you!
I know I would not have made it this far without the encouragement and camaraderie of my talented critique group friends: Janice Coy, Rachel Gobar, Rich Walsh, Amber Lough, Eveie Wilpon, Kirsten Kinney, Mark McDonough, and Tudy Woolfe. There is a part of you in this novel. I look forward to our future journeys together as writers!
My gratitude to my Chinese brush painting teacher, Jean Shen, for sharing the dance of the brush with me. And my fellow brush painting classmates—I look forward to our time together each week.
Two books were essential in my research for this novel, as both guidance and inspiration: The Inner Quarters: Marriage and the Lives of Chinese Women in the Sung Period, by Patricia Buckley Ebrey, and A Chinese Bestiary: Strange Creatures from the Guideways Through Mountains and Seas, edited and translated by Richard E. Strassberg.
I’m grateful for the friends I’ve made online through my blog and various forums. You’ve made me laugh, cheered and motivated me. I invite readers to visit my website, cindypon.com, to learn more about this novel, my writing, and my art. Click on my blog and leave a comment! I would love to hear from you.
And finally, chocolate kisses to my love, Mark, who watched after Sweet Pea and Munchkin for countless Saturdays, so I could write and chase my dreams.
About the Author
CINDY PON was born in Taipei, Taiwan, and her family immigrated to California in 1980, settling in the suburbs of Los Angeles. She began writing stories before she was officially declared English proficient. She received her bachelor’s from the University of California, San Diego, and also earned a master’s from New York University. The author is a student of Chinese brush painting, and her love for the art is reflected in her storytelling. Cindy Pon lives with her husband and two small children in San Diego, California.
www.cindypon.com
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SILVER PHOENIX. Beyond the Kingdom of Xia. Copyright © 2009 by Cindy Pon. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition April 2009 ISBN 9780061910647
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